


Crush

by nerdy-flower (baconnegg)



Series: The Shimada Brothers Need Healing [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adults trying their best despite the circumstances, Almost a month late oops, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brothers learning how to be brothers again, Canon ages altered slightly, Canon disabled characters, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Gotta rep the maple place, Hanzo owes many quarters to the Hanzo drama jar, Human Zenyatta, M/M, New Year's Eve, Subtly setting my modern au fics in Canada once again oops, The 'foolish sibling/responsible sibling' dynamic is a two-way street, god i love these nerds so much, good communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconnegg/pseuds/nerdy-flower
Summary: To his credit, Hanzo is trying very hard to enjoy the first New Year's Eve he's spent with Genji in a long time.





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Tw for brief, non-graphic descriptions of physical trauma

It made sense that Genji got McCree to invite Hanzo. It stung a bit, but it made sense. 

Genji and Zenyatta’s housewarming party had taken place in the middle of December, fresh off their move. A riotous, crowded affair that thankfully hadn’t involved the police at any point. Their new apartment had been shoulder-to-shoulder all night, so Jesse had said. Hanzo was the only one available to cover the night shift and hadn’t gone. 

He probably could have switched shifts if he really pushed for it. Genji probably knew that. 

“C’mon, darlin’,” McCree cajoles, inching forward on the sofa as he digs his thumb into a rather sizeable knot on Hanzo’s neck. “It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s not like you’ve got other plans.” 

“It’s a courtesy invitation, which I am courteously declining.” Hanzo grunts, face falling forward against his folded arms as McCree kneads harder. “If you want to go, just say I’m sick. You know I don’t like parties.” 

He hears McCree’s tongue click against the roof of his mouth above the whirrs of his prosthetic hand gripping Hanzo’s shoulder (the latest in a long line of myoelectric prototypes by Dr. Ziegler, and the most responsive one yet, partly credited to McCree’s astonishing patience as a lab rat). His flesh thumb works in long, rolling circles, his other fingers carefully braced against the column of Hanzo’s throat. “Nah, that’s no good. It’ll just be the four of us, no point if you’re not there.” 

“On New Year’s Eve?” Hanzo chuckles, letting his eyes fall shut as he feels muscle fibers releasing bit by bit. “You ought to have your eyes tested. You couldn’t have been talking to Genji.” 

McCree’s ministrations slow, almost imperceptibly, as his voice lowers. “He really wants you to come, Han. He got real excited when I said you were off that night.” A beat of silence, besides the TV quietly buzzing along to some bizarre home renovation show. “I think he wants you to see his new place. His last one was such a hole in the wall and-“ 

“I’ll go- We’ll go. What time are we supposed to be there?” 

“Around suppertime, and bring stuff to stay the night, he said.” Hanzo pushes himself up, but McCree catches him around the waist and gently pulls him back. He nuzzles like a dog against Hanzo’s neck once he’s carefully settled on his lap. “Didn’t mean to guilt-trip ya, angel. I just thought it’d be better than sittin’ around here all night.” 

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” Hanzo twists carefully on McCree’s thigh, throwing his legs sideways over the sofa and facing his partner. Easier to hold him this way, to let those thick arms enfold him as he buries his face against the warmth of his shoulder, laying a kiss there. “It will be nice, so long as Genji stays away from the stove.” 

Jesse laughs, shaking his boyfriend with it, and reaches for the remote. “There’s always takeout if he doesn’t.” 

*** 

Hanzo is not avoiding his brother, not anymore. They text often. Genji stops into his work between classes, putting his elbows all over the counter and distracting Hanzo with chatter (sometimes to Hanzo’s appreciation, a twenty-four hour sandwich shop in a smallish college town rarely meets the ‘fast-paced environment’ descriptive the job posting called for). Not to mention the overlaps in their widening circles of friends and colleagues. Adding it all together, they might well be in touch more often than not. 

Avoiding is what he did after the accident. The ten years after Hanzo had run a red light, straight into the path of a large shipping truck. The car crumpled around the truck’s front end like an empty soda can, his little brother cradled in the centre of the wreck. 

They had been arguing (they always were, after their father died). Hanzo’s injuries were impermanent and comparatively trivial partly because his body was limp from the drinks at the restaurant (not enough to consider himself impaired any other time, but then, what bartender would take a Shimada’s keys?). Genji’s survival and slow recovery was considered a medical miracle, drawing the attention and assistance of some of the best medical minds in the world (During his singular visit, Hanzo had been hard-pressed to find anything miraculous about the shattered, eerily pale flesh resting in a nest of tubes, wires, and bandages, aside from the steady drip of morphine that kept Genji asleep, though not blissfully so). 

Their extended family made any chance of proper justice disappear with a wave of their wide-reaching hands. Even the newspapers didn’t dare implicate him, using cautious adjectives to make it all seem like such an unfortunate accident. The season had been in their favour, though anyone who had stepped out of their door that day could have sworn there was no ice on the roads. 

Hanzo had very seriously considered and nearly pursued that route. The only thing that stopped him was the news that Genji would eventually wake up and be blessedly aware and intact. No matter what he did, his confession would be intensely public, a delightful exposé for hungry reporters and anyone even slightly inclined to gossip. The shame of a brother sitting in prison would be burden enough. The thought of the wolfish media twisting it all into some roguish, intriguing conspiracy was enough to make him sick. 

At least, that’s what he told himself in order to sleep at night. Cowardice was the truth. Both impulses kept more permanent solutions off the table. 

Better to have a brother disappeared, he lied quietly to himself. No, better to have a brother cease to exist entirely. He had kept his head down most of his life, Genji was the popular one. His absence would be forgotten in the time it would take Genji to return to relative normalcy. _Hanzo, who?_

Returning to the country where his mother had spent her childhood was simple enough. A little paperwork. Careful shuffling of money. A cross-Pacific flight with numerous layovers. All with the care to make his leaving clearly intentional, not overly secretive. Private investigators tracking him down would be a waste of everyone’s time and an embarrassment besides. Delete a few accounts, leave his cell on his bedside table, make his address known to virtually no one. It was almost easy, to just walk away. 

In a pitiful attempt at repentance, he built a small, unobtrusive life. Took simple jobs, paid his bills on time, asked nothing of anyone and left no marks. Off the grid, mostly, but for the part-time distance-ed courses he studied to fill his empty hours with purpose, food staining the pages of his sketchbooks on his coffee breaks. If not for work, he might have felt like a ghost on some international haunting holiday. 

If not for work, he certainly wouldn’t have met Genji again. 

It was laughably cinematic. Of all the quick-and-cheap eateries in town, Genji had to walk into his. Hanzo shuffled out of the back room, half-asleep with a fresh bag of sesame buns in his hand, and found his brother leaning over the cash register, trying and failing to charm the implacable Amélie, a part-timer who often covered the lunch rush with him. 

They both blanched. They both stood stone-still and stared. Hanzo flinched first. 

Amélie, to her credit, hand-waved Hanzo’s request to leave early due to a ‘family emergency’ (he nearly choked on the words), studying them in blatant bewilderment but clearly aware that questions were a poor idea. In a daze, Hanzo led Genji to his nearby apartment, a basement unit, enough soundproofing that Genji could let him have it without drawing attention, Hanzo thought. 

There ended up being a startling lack of shouting. The quiet was more painful, but Hanzo learned a great deal. 

Genji had similarly purchased a one-way ticket far away from the Shimadas, who had hounded him to fill Hanzo’s role before he was even full recovered. After a lengthy aimless period which he seemed reluctant to discuss, he ended up as a student in their mother’s hometown (if Hanzo hadn’t been equally sentimental in his most recent choice of residence, they might never have crossed paths). A mentor-turned-boyfriend (the juicier details of which were explained later, when Genji was in a less serious mood) was responsible for nearly everything good in his life, to hear Genji tell it.

The forgiveness came as a shock, adamant and in a nigh-unrecognizable tone. It was nearly unbearable. As was the inexplicable warmth and candor that so often came through Genji’s words. 

Like that first night, when they’d been talking for so long their voices seized and rusted. Genji dared to rest his hand on Hanzo’s knee and startled, his jaw slack with concern when he realized there was only plastic and metal beneath the denim. “Anija, what happened?” 

He told Genji about the accident at a previous job. A poorly-run industrial warehouse in another dead-end town. A shelf collapsing and a massive container crushing his lower legs. He didn’t tell him about the feelings of _rightness_ and _deserving_ that surfaced amidst the wash of exquisite pain as he’d passed out. He didn’t laugh in his face and tell him that there was nothing to sympathize with. That even seeing Genji smile was painful to him, because he knew all of his teeth were now ceramic and screwed into his head. He let his brother hug him and sunk as far down into himself as his mind would allow. 

Genji immediately started bringing friends from school around the shop. A strange parade of seemingly disconnected individuals, but Genji had always been a social Pied Piper. And the boyfriend, of course, a young man who dressed like a librarian, shaved and marked his head like a monk, and spoke like someone much older. He eventually brought Dr. Ziegler (“Just Angela, please”), whose research was based at the university and who somehow still wanted to spend time with Genji outside of work, and in turn, fellow expatriate and prosthetic prototype tester Jesse McCree. 

_Don’t,_ his mind whispered when the broad-shouldered, broad-syllabled, broad-smiling man started turning up at his deli counter without Genji and the others in tow. _Don’t be a fool,_ even as he found himself teasing back, laughing and debating, accepting the walks home. _This isn’t meant for you,_ and yet, he still relished every innocent, fleeting touch and every flash of mirth that danced in Jesse’s handsome eyes. 

Hanzo’s commitment to being a neutral presence in his brother’s new life went straight to hell when Genji accurately deduced his crush and went full-force on his matchmaking efforts. Against Hanzo’s wishes, of course. He was content to let it fizzle out over time, but his little brother just had to keep shoving them together and dropping distressingly obvious hints and it wasn’t long before their shared meals were called dates and Jesse’s scent was on his pillows and _goddammit Genji you are not getting ‘deets,’ mind your own business._

It was all wrong. He was not meant to be loved so well. To be held as if he were something fragile and dear. To have dreams and thoughts and fears whispered to him in the quiet spaces. To read in midnight silence with a companion at his elbow doing the same. It was absurd, and frightening. Hanzo found himself sitting up at night, memorizing his lover’s sleeping face and tracing his fingers over dark, lightly freckled skin in anticipation of it all eventually falling away. 

It hadn’t yet, and here they were, standing in front of Genji and Zenyatta’s door with Tupperware and a bottle of expensive booze like a pair of married fifty-somethings. 

“It’s open, come in!” Genji’s muffled voice calls from the living room. They enter, hang up their outer layers and kick off their boots, and Hanzo is genuinely surprised to find that they’re the only ones there. 

The main area of the apartment is all open, with a wide hallway down the right side containing the bedrooms and bathroom. The walls are beige, hung with smaller photos and prints that are student art-y but not unpleasant. The furniture is small, second-hand and homey, with the exception of the large kotatsu that Genji and Zenyatta are seated at in the middle of the living room.

“Isn’t it cool?” Genji excitedly waves them over, lifting the covers for Hanzo to sit down. “Ordered the parts online and put it together myself! Just like the one we used to have, eh, Hanzo?” 

Hanzo nods and takes a seat while McCree whistles and declares that it looks ‘mighty comfortable’ before heading into the kitchen. An ache flickers through him, but he pushes it aside as the heat seeps up through his lap. “Perhaps since it’s electric, you won’t burn yourself quite so often.” 

“No such luck,” Zenyatta confirms, a cheerful slyness in his tone. “I’ve had to play first aider at least twice this week.” 

Genji rushes to his own defense, claiming it not to be his fault if he’s asleep, before scrabbling up to help McCree with the drinks and check on dinner. Zenyatta and Hanzo fill the air with chatter about the balcony, a large concrete space they hope to fill with many plants to make up for its admittedly dull view of neighboring high-rises. 

The two return and settle on either side of him, McCree with the glasses and Genji with the sake bottle in the pocket of his dark red hoodie and expertly balancing a tray of four bowls of toshikoshi soba, shockingly neither burnt nor store-bought. “I keep telling you! My days of burning water are long-gone, I’m almost useful now.” 

The idle chatter continues, about everyone’s jobs, the friend-of-a-friend of Zenyatta’s brother who was able to get him first dibs after three months of fruitless apartment hunting, and the arrival of Genji, who was only too happy to throw his belongings into banana boxes and escape his bedbug-infested bachelor pad. 

“And besides,” Zenyatta adds, snagging a few biscuits out of the tin that Hanzo brought. “It’s about time that Genji and I made a home together, we’ve waited long enough.” 

Genji’s ears and cheeks turn faintly pink in the glow of Zenyatta’s beatific smile. Hanzo grins, hidden against the rim of his glass, sake heavy on his tongue. He already knew Zenyatta to be an exceptionally good man, but anyone who could make his brother blush earned high praise from him. 

“So! What did we want to do first?” Genji recovers with a cough and quickly scoots over to the stout black TV stand, shuffling through its contents. “All our movies are unpacked- oh!” He yanks a hefty black box free, hoisting it as a controller and a few RCA cables spill onto his lap. “We should play this! Hana got it for us, but we haven’t tried it yet because it needs at least three people.” 

After watching no less than three Youtube tutorials to actually comprehend the rules (“The hell ever happened to Clue? I liked Clue.”), they start the game. Genji fumbles for the remote in the couch cushions and puts one of the pre-ball drop shows on low volume. They nurse their drinks and talk between rolls, mostly incredulous stories about the stupidity of customers and classmates. The wind whistles outside, picking up snow and swirling it in the bitterly cold air. 

Hanzo shifts on the cushion his creeping age requires, slipping a hand under the covers to ensure neither of his legs is nudged against the heating element. It feels so domestic, so normal to sit with his brother and pass the time. Genji the surprisingly-well-adjusted adult is a world apart from the broken young man he’d abandoned in Hanamura. The sight of him at ease, grinning and picking blue polish off his fingernails, as comfortable as a cat on its favourite perch, is intensely bittersweet.

A gentle tap on his arm. “Your turn, doll.” 

Hanzo twitches, slightly embarrassed. “Right, I will…” He stares at the map of tiles, still not having a sense of it, and points to a blank space. “Go- north?” 

Genji places a tile with a park scene down and polishes off his ginger ale. Hanzo moves his little plastic character while Genji reads from the next card. “You try to make your escape under the cover of night, only to find the path blocked by a group of enraged fish-people. Roll for damage!” 

Jesse groans, frowning at his own hand of cards. “We’re never gonna make it to the train station at this rate.” 

Hanzo frowns as a chunk is taken out of his character’s health. “Hopefully one of us will finish this by next year.” 

“No dad jokes in this house,” Genji scolds, studying the board over his square glasses. “I’ll get us out of here, I just need to talk to one of those ravens again. How do I get more sanity?” 

“That wasn’t a joke, that was a statement. Actually, more of a plea at this point.” Hanzo chuckles and flicks his cell phone on, revealing it to be past ten-thirty. 

“Anyone have any new year’s resolutions?” Zenyatta chimes in, meticulously rearranging his cards with something of a glint in his eye. “Mine is to get out more, I feel like I spent far too much of last summer indoors.” 

“Mine is to take a couple weeks off and go somewhere. Haven’t decided where yet, though.” McCree’s tongue slips out to wet his lips as he inches his plastic werewolf hunter back to the abandoned medical clinic tile. “What about you, Han?” 

“Eh, to be honest, I don’t bother with them anymore. I find them sort of arbitrary.” 

“Geez, Hanzo, are you training for the boring old man Olympics?” Genji gripes, flicking a pretzel at him, which he bats away. 

“I’m being honest! If you want to work towards something, then do it. Don’t wait for the least motivating time of year. That’s just setting yourself up for failure.” 

“That is a good point,” Zenyatta tries to mop up the last of McCree’s famous and unnecessarily secretive dip without snapping one of the few remaining chips. “But I think there’s something to be said for a fresh start, and a new year tends to inspire that in people.” 

“So you agree that Hanzo is being a crotchety old man?” 

“ _Genji_.” 

Laughter fills the room, along with the muted screech of crowds and barely-audible pop singers from the television. McCree and Hanzo finally escape the village, only for Zenyatta to play a series of well-timed cards that result in him breaking the curse or joining the evil forces or something. Either way, he stands victorious amongst the plastic and cardboard carnage of the table. 

“Nooo, I was going to win in two more turns! I had it all planned out!” Genji lightly jabs a finger at his boyfriend’s chest. “That was sneaky!” 

“I think you meant to say strategic,” Zenyatta chuckles as Genji continues whinging about his perfect plan. 

The mess is cleared away and they all move to the couch, legs sufficiently warmed and the kotatsu left to cool and hold their remaining treats. Hanzo ends up at one end, securely in the frame of Jesse’s arm, while Genji sprawls in the middle, Zenyatta leaning comfortably against him, switching between watching the confetti-covered programme and scrolling through his phone and showing pictures, mostly of Hana and Lúcio shivering at an outdoor rave. Hanzo searches for envy in his voice as he reads texts from their friends who are at proper celebrations, but finds none. 

At the ten second mark, Genji shoves champagne poppers into their hands and insists they ‘get ready.’ Hanzo catches a flush of childish excitement in his cynical old heart as midnight strikes. Their shouts echo through the apartment, confetti is caught on the ceiling light, and Hanzo happily accepts the affectionate, closed-mouth smooch Jesse plants on him while his brother and Zenyatta are similarly engaged. 

“Perfect!” Genji declares after shoving them together for a photo. “Now I can- oops, no service. Nevermind.” 

“Me neither,” Zenyatta says, glancing at his phone. “Oh! Mondatta’s text got through, how nice of him to remember.” 

“Where’s he run off to this time?” 

“London, for the summit of- something or other, I can’t remember-oh!” Zenyatta catches himself on a yawn. “Pardon me.” 

“Hah, I’m surprised you lasted this long,” Genji says, pressing a smiling kiss to his temple. “You’re usually out by eleven at the latest.” 

“It’s a special occasion,” Zenyatta retorts, squeezing Genji’s hand before lifting himself into his adjacent wheelchair and taking the brakes off. “Stay up as long as you like, I’ve been told I can sleep through nearly anything, so don’t feel like you have to be quiet just for me.” 

“Nah, I think I’ll turn in too, actually.” McCree stands and stretches, his back cracking ominously. 

“Into what?” Hanzo stands to join him, though he’s far from tired. Working an irregular cycle of day, evening, and night shifts has damaged his circadian rhythms possibly beyond repair, but a loudly-snoring boyfriend proves as good a sleep aid as any. 

“That was even worse,” Genji complains, hopping up and trailing behind Zen, fingers dancing along his partner’s shoulder where the wide neck of his petal-pink sweater droops down. “Let’s go then, as long as we’re all old and boring together.” 

*** 

Hanzo’s mind surfaces from the waters of sleep, initially senseless and finding purchase on the feeling of strong arms slipping away from him. He blindly reaches a hand out, fingering unshorn chest hair and blinking blearily. “Jesse-?” 

“Shh, go back to sleep, sugar.” Jesse laughs softly when Hanzo grumbles and pushes closer to him. He takes Hanzo’s hand and kisses down over his tattoo, wrist to forearm, elbow to shoulder, into the crook of his neck and makes him shiver from the scrape of his beard. Hanzo’s hands slide up to tangle in soft brown hair, tugging the slightest bit. “Mm, you are the best damn thing to wake up next to, I ever tell you that?” 

Hanzo chuckles and presses his lips right below Jesse’s ear, the spot that always startles a little noise out of him. Jesse’s chest is flush with his now, the heat of him vital and soft through Hanzo’s old t-shirt. They lay against each other for a moment, Hanzo’s fingers tracing nonsense shapes over Jesse’s acne-dotted shoulders, swoops of chest scars, and thick, plush waist. He nearly feels the rumble of his lover’s stomach when it bubbles up, and he definitely feels his vaguely embarrassed laugh. 

“Gonna go rustle up some breakfast,” Jesse pulls away, cupping Hanzo’s face for a moment and leaving a tender kiss on his forehead, where his overgrown bangs are swept back. He scoops his prosthesis off the side table and ruffles Hanzo’s hair. “I’ll wake you when it’s done. Y’got bags under your eyes still.” 

“I do not,” Hanzo mumbles, without much defiance. He lets Jesse slip off and drowses, sprawled comfortably against the pillows for perhaps a half-hour until he hears a rap at the door, followed by Genji’s voice asking if he’s up. 

He answers in a rough voice that he is, turning onto his back and half-sitting up, rubbing his eyes as Genji sticks his head in. 

“Did you two have sex in here last night?” 

Hanzo’s head snaps up, fully awake. “Of course not! Why-“ 

“ _Happy new year_!” Hanzo’s voice breaks on a grunt of pain as Genji volleys himself onto the bed, landing partly in his brother’s lap. Hanzo shoves him away, Genji laughing all the while. 

He tumbles out of Hanzo’s reach and onto his side, resting his head on one hand and grinning widely. “Good morning! How’d you sleep?” 

“Very well until a minute ago,” Hanzo replies, sounding more winded than he means to. God, Genji’s elbows were pointy. Wasn’t he eating enough? “Did you need something?” 

“Nope! Just came in to bother you.” Genji inches over and reaches for the blinds, letting a little more crisp winter sunlight in. Hanzo notices he isn’t wearing his prosthetic leg, a glance revealing his forearm crutches leaning against the wall. Probably best not to wear expensive medical equipment when unnecessarily launching yourself at people. 

He lets his eyes linger a moment too long while Genji fiddles with the cord. The myriad suture lines peeping out from under his tank top and pajama pants. The raised, white ridge scars on his face from the glass, from surgeries, from more surgeries trying to repair the damage of both. The slightly stiff way he holds his neck when he moves. The prick marks on his joints, likely steroid shots to relieve pain where the medicines behind his bathroom mirror fail. The pain he’s still experiencing, ten years after the fact- 

Hanzo pushes it all down. Picks up his phone and averts his gaze there, scrolling mindlessly. Genji would not benefit from another reminder of how his older brother yanked all the promises of a young healthy life right out from under him- No. Open your message app. Try to decipher a string of emojis from Lena. Now is not the time. 

“So do you like it? Our place, I mean.” 

His eyes flick up to find Genji looking at him eagerly. His unbrushed hair flops over his forehead, black roots peeking through the bright green. Hanzo makes a mental note to ask Zenyatta how he turned his brother into a morning person, because that is a feat worth documenting for posterity. “Of course, I already said so. A better question is, do you like it here?” A small smile curves his lips. “With him, that is.” 

“Oh yeah, of course,” Genji’s smile unwittingly doubles in size. “I mean- I knew it would be better, no scheduling or dragging an overnight bag around. Plus he’s twenty-four-seven adorable, but I already knew that. Just- coming home to him every day is the best. He’s the best. It’s great.” 

Hanzo smirks as Genji scrubs a hand over his face. “I haven’t seen you this smitten since you got your first PlayStation.” 

Genji tsks and flaps a hand at him, the edges of his smile softening a little. “It’s kind of surreal, too. Everything is the opposite of what I always pictured for myself-“ Hanzo’s lips tighten against his teeth. “-But I’m just so happy, you know?” He beams again, voice hushed, like he’s afraid to be overheard. “Never thought I’d enjoy being boring, turns out it’s actually pretty awesome.” 

Hanzo studies his brother’s lightly flushed cheeks, his slightly bewildered expression, the youthful colour still in his voice, as if for the first time. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re happy.” 

“Definitely,” Genji grins, looking back up at Hanzo and arching one of his thick eyebrows. “On that note, how are things with you and the cowboy?” 

Hanzo rolls his eyes. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t go to McCree if he wants gossip. Especially since Jesse has proven himself prone to bragging on more than one unfortunate occasion, usually after a few drinks. “Fine as usual, thank you.” 

“You know,” Genji prods, dragging out the second ‘o.’ There’s some clattering sounds from the kitchen, hopefully Jesse is making pancakes. “There’s some other buildings around here with vacancies, nice places too. Maybe it’s time you and McCree had the talk?” 

Hanzo pinches the bridge of his nose, just below his piercing (an impulse decision he ended up sticking with, it didn’t look so bad on him) and picks up his phone again. “Genji, please. You’re like a meddling old woman.” 

“I’m just saying,” Genji cuts in, tone light but persistent. “Might be worth looking into, you could finally find a place with an elevator. Plus, think of how much cheaper it would be! Less rent money, more trips to the bakery, right?” 

Hanzo scoffs. “You’re a bit old for the peer pressure talk, you know.” 

Genji pouts like a child. “You just said you were happy for me!” 

“I fail to see what that has to do with my living situation,” Hanzo scrolls through his email, deleting and flagging coupons as needed. 

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Genji sits up, inserting himself into Hanzo’s personal bubble. “Ask McCree to move in with you- Oh, do it on Valentine’s Day! It’ll be super romantic! Besides, it’s not like he’ll say no.” 

“It’s too soon.” 

“Says who?” 

“Common sense.” 

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” 

“No, I’m trying not to complicate things.” Hanzo shakes his head while Genji continues to frown at him. “What if we break up? Leases and shared furniture would make everything worse.” 

“Do you think you’re going to? Is something going on?” Genji glances at the door to ensure he closed it, and there’s that tone again. Kind, but almost parental. It’s not how Genji used to talk. 

“No! Everything’s fine, but I can’t predict the future.” 

Genji curls his lips and shrugs. “Same could go for me and Zen, I still said yes. You can’t just wait forever.” 

“You’ve known him for years- Listen,” Hanzo sighs. “If it comes up again, I’ll consider it. Does that make you happy?” 

“Again? Wait-” Genji leans in, inches from Hanzo’s face. “Did he already ask you?” 

“It came up over Christmas, we discussed it and-“ 

“And you _turned him down!_ ” Genji groans in pain, falling onto his back and covering his face with his hands. “On Christmas! Oh, I should have known. You are so, so bad at this.” 

“Give it a rest.” Hanzo snaps, finally throwing the covers off and pulling his gel socks over his stumps. He can smell something delicious from the kitchen, McCree would be calling for them soon enough. “I’m a grown man. My relationship is my business, not yours.” 

“Okay, sure, but you avoiding a good thing out of a fear of vulnerability is a little bit my business.” He hears Genji roll over as he draws on his left leg. “Am I wrong, or are you that annoyed by the way he folds his laundry?” 

“That is not-!” Hanzo clamps his jaw shut, restraining his anger. Genji’s just being nosey, it isn’t worth an argument. “If I need a therapy session, I’ll ask Zenyatta. I don’t have to justify my decisions to you.” 

“Hanzo.” A hand on his shoulder, a familiar needling in the tone. “Don’t get mad, alright? I just don’t like seeing you unhappy.” 

“I am happy,” Hanzo tightens the harness on his right leg. “Don’t concern yourself.” 

The hand retreats and a rather sullen sigh follows. “I’d find that easier to believe if you’d look me in the eye once in a while, anija.” 

Hanzo freezes, fingernails catching on the edge of his loose jogging shorts, then stands and walks out just as Jesse hollers to say that breakfast is served. 

Zenyatta had joined him and pancakes were indeed made, in large, syrupy stacks that are devoured quickly and greedily along with the cheese omelets and fried red potatoes. Hanzo’s never been a champion of small talk, but he makes the effort, tries not to seem conspicuously tight-lipped. Genji’s better at it than he is. 

With most every place worth going to being closed and the weather frigid and icy, the conversation drags on interminably. Genji and McCree get caught in a rabbit hole of increasingly ridiculous YouTube videos and Hanzo excuses himself to the shower. A brief and glorious respite, with a comfortable bench and grab bars seemingly installed by someone who actually knew how to use them, rather than a begrudging landlord armed with discount store tools. 

Damp and refreshed, he dresses and settles on the arm of the couch beside Jesse, one hand on a flannel-covered shoulder. He watches along for a while, feeling Jesse shake with laughter before clearing his throat. “We ought to go, you have to work tonight.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jesse chuckles, patting his hand but not moving in any hurry. 

“Well, it’s been a pleasure having you here,” Zenyatta turns and squeezes Genji’s knee. “Do you want to do it now or later?” 

“Let’s do it now, I’m impatient,” Genji huffs a laugh and squeezes his hand back before Zen wheels off towards their bedroom. “Besides, you’re at work all day tomorrow, right Hanzo?” 

“Yes?” Hanzo shoots his brother a suspicious glare. “What are you pulling this time?” 

“Nothing! Now, close your eyes.” 

“I am absolutely not falling for that-“ 

“It’s nothin’ bad, buttercup, honest.” Hanzo is not at all relieved by the two of them wearing matching grins, but shuts his eyes knowing he can at least take proper revenge on McCree if it is something embarrassing. 

“Good, now hold out your hands-“ 

Hanzo does, and a slender box is set into them. He opens his eyes before he’s instructed to, finding a crisp black package containing a small, brand-new drawing tablet. Before he can say anything, Genji bursts the last champagne popper over his head, the sound sharp in his ear. 

“Happy almost-birthday!” His brother crows while Jesse and Zenyatta laugh. “It’s your last day of being thirty-two, spend it wisely!” 

Hanzo stares blankly for a moment. “Oh, that’s right.” 

Jesse chuckles, flicking some confetti off Hanzo’s shoulder. “You forgot? Damn, darlin’, don’t go senile on me already.” 

“Do you like it? Emily said it’s a good one,” Genji leans over McCree’s lap and flips it around in Hanzo’s hand so he can read the features on the back. “It’s from both of us. _My_ personal gift to you is not telling anyone else it’s your birthday. You’re welcome.”

“That’s the most generous gift of all,” Hanzo manages, smiling thinly. “Thank you, but I can’t accept this. I’m sure you have more important things to spend your money on.” 

“We thought you might say that, so we took the liberty of throwing out the receipt,” Zenyatta says in that perpetually even voice of his, rolling back to Genji’s side. “If it ends up being broken in some way, they do have a fairly lenient exchange policy.” 

Hanzo shakes his head in quiet defeat, offering his sincerest thanks and ignoring Genji’s jeering remarks about what Jesse’s gift will be. They bundle up, bidding good-byes and wishes for a happy new year. The bus ride home is crowded with hangover victims and mostly silent, their fingers wrapped around each other on the metal pole. They get off at Hanzo’s place, where most of Jesse’s uniforms keep ending up courtesy of Hanzo’s in-unit washing machine. 

He traces his finger over the box, feeling the rough edge of the heat-sealed plastic as he stands at the makeshift computer desk he keeps in the corner of his small living room. Jesse putters around, rambling to himself about where his belt got off to and what they should make for lunch later on. 

It doesn’t make sense. Genji had grown strong in his absence, he’s matured and gotten (dare he say it? Certainly not to Genji’s face) wiser. All despite being robbed of the easy and comfortable life he should have had. He’s surrounded himself with people who are caring and interesting and fun. He’s built a lovely, full life for himself that their family never would have approved of, and is all the happier for it. 

Hanzo stands in opposition to all of that. He’s an obligation, a drain, and a host of unpleasant memories. His presence holds no benefit for Genji’s life. He had done the right thing by removing himself from it, why wouldn’t Genji let him stay gone? 

“You oughta sign up for one of those digital drawing classes,” Jesse says while hunting around in the cupboards not ten feet away. “Bet you’ll be real good at it once you get a lil’ practice. No more pens runnin’ out on ya either, hm?” 

He had the perfect out that day at the shop. Walk away. Ignore each other, the city was just big enough for that. Why didn’t he take it? He was not so oblivious as to not see what a misery Hanzo was to have around. A grown man, and he couldn’t even manage proper gratitude for a birthday present he didn’t deserve. Why didn’t Genji just get him a card and be done with it? Why did he bother? 

“Han?” 

Why did he keep _trying?_

In a few moments, Hanzo finds himself pressed against Jesse’s shoulder, disgusted by the wet spot he’s created on his shirt. Jesse strokes along his hair where it’s been freshly buzzed, rocking gently back on his heels as he hums quietly. 

“…I’m sorry,” Hanzo croaks at last. “I haven’t been good to you lately. I shouldn’t burden you with this as well.” 

“Now, where’d that come from?” Jesse murmurs against Hanzo’s scalp. “Tell me what’s wrong, honeybee. Somethin’ upset ya?” 

Hanzo quietly shakes his head as best he can. Jesse makes a thoughtful noise in his throat. “You and Genji have an argument?” 

“Not quite,” Hanzo breathes and settles closer to his lover’s neck, selfishly soaking up as much contact as he can. “…People should not feel obligated to the people who hurt them.” 

“Ah, now, that’s what I was afraid of,” McCree sighs, and the weariness of it prickles inside Hanzo’s chest. He brushes a kiss against Hanzo’s crown, his voice soft and lulling. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what does he have to do to convince you he wants you around?” 

Hanzo swallows dryly. “He shouldn’t.” 

“That wasn’t the question, darlin’.” A faint smile in his voice as his hand presses against Hanzo’s lower back, rubbing gentle circles when he gets no response. “Wish I had somethin’ more philosophical to say, but he’s your brother, Han. Whether you believe him or not, he sure as hell ain’t going anywhere.” 

“He’s an idiot,” Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut, a headache building in his temples. A cruel, cutting voice inside him tries to insist that Jesse doesn’t understand the magnitude of what he’s done because he doesn’t have ‘real’ siblings. As if the enormity of Jesse’s heart was capable of anything less than complete, unconditional love. “You are right, though.” 

“Heh, mind sayin’ that into this red light for me?” Jesse’s laugh rings out when Hanzo expertly prods a ticklish spot on his side. “Hah-! Hey! C’mon now, I was only kidding.” 

He steps back, cupping Hanzo’s jaw and kissing his forehead, then his closed eyes. Hanzo swallows the surge of thick heat that rears up in his throat, speaking stiffly. “I’ve changed my mind about that resolutions business. This year, I resolve to be at least half as good to you as you are to me.” 

“Awh, sweetheart. I can’t wait to spoil ya tomorrow night- or maybe earlier, hm?” Jesse croons, voice all sugary and his eyes stuck like Velcro to Hanzo’s own. He curls his metal fingers together, lifting Hanzo’s chin slightly on his knuckle. “We can put a pin in this for now, but I just wanna say- you’re everything good to me already, alright? You’re not the boring part of a movie I’m sittin’ through while I wait for it to get better, I promise.” 

Hanzo kisses him properly then, hands tightening in his shirt, because his words are always lacking, fumbling and insincere. He only wants to give his best to Jesse. 

Much later, Hanzo nibbles on the last of his rice while re-watching one of his favourite detective shows, having been bundled onto the couch under his heaviest blanket before Jesse left for his evening shift. He reaches for the bag of out-coded brownies on the coffee table when the credits roll and glances at his desk. He’d thankfully gotten the tablet drivers working on his aging laptop, and downloaded a simple graphics program, testing out the different functions and increasingly fantasizing about the ease of sketches and line work, though he still loved the flow of real ink. 

He grabs his phone and quickly types out a message. 

**HS:** Thank you both again for the gift. It’s still too much, but it does work very nicely. 

A few minutes pass before his phone chimes. 

**GS:** Np! Draw something cool and send it to me (*ゝω・)ﾉ  
**GS:** Did you have fun yesterday? Figured you’d like something more lowkey than my usual lol 

Hanzo’s eyes start to burn. All his brother had wanted was to spend New Year’s with him. He went out of his way to make sure Hanzo enjoyed himself, and he had, or at least he would have if he’d thought to pull himself out of his own head for more than five minutes. He just kept fucking everything up- 

He swipes at the corners of his eyes and types again. 

**HS:** Yeah, it was a lot of fun.  
**HS:** Sorry for being an ass. 

**GS:** Don’t sweat it bro! I know how annoying I can be lol  
**GS:** The 4 of us should hang out more often  
**GS:** Double daaaaaaates~ 

Hanzo smiles to himself. Another chance. Undeserved, but still- 

**GS:** You’re off Sundays right?  
**GS:** I know McCree usually is  
**GS:** We should go out for wings, there’s an all you can eat place near the uni  
**GS:** Zen says they have vegetarian stuff so we can go!!!  
**GS:** WIIIIINGS  <3 ୧⍢୨ 

**HS:** You’re such a glutton. 

**GS:** I have a high metabolism, Angela said so (¬_¬)  
**GS:** G2g time to try and kick Zen’s ass at dr Mario again  
**GS:** Gnight till I send you an obnoxious bday text at midnight .*:ﾟ（｀・ω・´）ゝﾟ:*.

Hanzo smiles faintly, sighs, and tugs the blankets up to his chin, returning to his murder mysteries and resting a little easier for once.

**Author's Note:**

> First Overwatch fic!!! Didn't think I had room in my heart for even more nerds, but boy do I love these boys and want the best for them. If anyone wants to scream about them with me, I welcome them to do so. 
> 
> Major shoutout to Byacolate for Sugar Crystal Sisyphus, a fic possibly responsible for me shipping Genyatta, and definitely for the idea of wheelchair-using human!Zenyatta. Go read it immediately, it might be one of the best fics I've ever read.  
> Shoutout also to the Amputee Coalition website for being a super great resource on prosthetics and limb loss. I'm writing about this secondhand, but I want to keep it as real as possible 
> 
> I'm not sure if this is of interest to anyone? But here's some unedited notes I wrote about the boys' jobs in this little 'verse I've made:  
> \- Hanzo: Part-time distance ed art student, full-time sandwich artist (internal screaming)  
> \- McCree: Part-time pet-groomer, part-time security guard, misses working on farms  
> \- Genji: Part-time via accommodations undeclared major student (he was injured in the middle of university and was barely attending back then anyway), part-time receptionist at a day spa (definitely talked himself into that job, keeps it because he's actually good with numbers and they've got him doing the bookkeeping now, has definitely done nude modelling and bartending for under-the-table cash)  
> \- Zenyatta: Full-time counselor at one of those integrative health care centres that also offers acupuncture, free evening meals, and mentions mindfulness in all their promotional material, layperson at the Shambali Monastery where he lived until recently  
> Genji and Zen have been romantically involved for nearly two years, Jesse and Hanzo for just short of one at this point. 
> 
> I really want to write more of these nerds. Thanks for reading!~ 
> 
> (Also re: the board game scene, tag yourself I'm McCree)


End file.
